


Black Silk Printed with Pale Roses

by Pragnificent (PragmaticHominid)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Hannibal Loves Will, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Will Loves Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 12:33:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10617018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PragmaticHominid/pseuds/Pragnificent
Summary: Folded neatly inside is a black silk skirt printed with pale tea roses in various muted shades of pink, purple and peach. It's a lovely thing, and Will finds himself stroking the fabric."Is this for me?" Will asks.(Trans positive fluff fic because my soul needs some.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> (This is a repost of a story I wrote a while back. After looking at the old version and realizing how many typos it had, I decided to do some major revisions and put up the new version instead).

Hannibal lowers the shopping bags onto the kitchen counter and begins to unpack the groceries, and Will takes advantage of the opportunity to get a good look at Hannibal’s ass in the white linen shorts when he bends to place a bundle of leeks in the vegetable drawer. “I know you’re watching,” Hannibal says, the smugness of his smile clear in his voice, so it's only natural that Will pretends he hadn’t been.

Instead, he begins to poke casually through the cotton shopping bags, and finds that Hannibal's brought home more than just groceries. Inside one of the bags there's a flimsy rectangular box with the logo of a high-end clothing store printed on its top. Will pulls the box out of the bag and takes off the lid.

Folded neatly inside is a black silk skirt printed with pale tea roses in various muted shades of pink, purple and peach. It's a lovely thing, and Will finds himself stroking the fabric.

He's lifting it from the box and thinking about how much he would like to hold it up to his waist when Hannibal clears his throat, reminding Will that he's being observed. Will unfolds the skirt onto the counter top instead, trying to look casual - trying to give the impression that was what he had planned on doing all along.

“Is this for me?” he asks. He tried to pitch his voice so it sounded like a joke - one that he's not very invested in and which is at Hannibal’s expense. _What crazy bullshit are you up to now, Hannibal?_ he wants his voice to say, but not in a way that's _too_ harsh.

Hannibal doesn't take it as a joke, though. He regards Will curiously, his head cocked slightly to the side. “Do you want for it to be for you?”  

Will knows that Hannibal can tell that the smile he's wearing is painful and forced, but he can’t seem to do better. “Of course not. No. Just…” He tries a laugh, to poor effect. “Just, who else would it be for?”

The left side of Hannibal’s mouth twitches upwards, briefly, in what passes for him as an amused smile, but Will thinks there's a ghost of something guarded in the way he holds his eyes.

“What, it’s for you?” Will asks. 

“That was my intention.”

“You’re joking.”

“I had quite a nice collection back at my home in Baltimore,” Hannibal says. “I suppose that the Bureau seized them all long ago. Frederick will have quite the field day with that, once he gets back to work on my biography.” The distaste in his voice is a little too raw; the idea doesn't simply annoy him, as everything associated with Chilton does - it hits close to a nerve.

Will gives him time to shake it off - it's only a matter of a few seconds. “But Will, if you want it then it is yours. I can easily have it resized.”

“I always wanted to try…” he starts, but shies away from completing the thought. “My dad would have ripped me a new one if he found out, though.” He laughs ruefully, embarrassed. “Christ, he’s been dead ten years, and I’m still worried about what he’s going to do.”

Will pauses, mulling something over, and finds himself suddenly grinning. “Oh, he would have _hated_ you.”

“I’m flattered to hear that. Will you take the skirt? I’d like for you to have it.”

Will wets his lips, thinking hard. “I’d rather see you in it,” he says, at last.

“Of course,” Hannibal says, and his smile is more open now, honestly pleased. “I’ll be back soon,” he adds, and disappears into the bedroom with the skirt in its box.

When Hannibal comes back, Will sees that the box must have contained a top as well, silky and black and cut in a low V in the chest. Hannibal moves with complete ease in the top and skirt, without any hint of self-consciousness or shame. He stops a few steps away from Will and turned in a slow circle, allowing Will to admire him from every angle.  

And for no reason that Will could easily articulate, he begins to cry.  

“Will,” Hannibal says, turning back towards him quickly, and Will sees that Hannibal is not especially surprised by his reaction, but that he is sorry for it. He feels a quick stab of resentment at having been found so predictable, but its quickly drown under a larger welter of raw emotion.

He looks at Hannibal in the skirt and thinks about how badly he's wanted something like that for himself, and of all the years he's spent convincing himself that he could never have it.

Seeing Hannibal looking so natural in the skirt and top, how well it fits him and how beautiful he looks in the outfit, drives home for Will that this is within his grasp too now. It's not a mean-spirited joke on Hannibal's part or an effort at some mind game. It's something that Hannibal is happy about - he is pleased to let Will see him this way and would be even happier should Will join him. 

“Gender is socially constructed, Will. It’s fluid, as you are. You can be whoever you would like to be and you can dress however pleases you.” Hannibal's face suddenly fierce, the soft fond lines that were there a moment before gone. “We will eat anyone who says otherwise.”

Hannibal takes him by the hand and leads him to the couch. He lowers himself down onto it and pulls Will gently into his lap, and for a little while Will cries harder than before, feeling the softness of the fabric of the silk blouse and the shape of Hannibal’s legs under the skirt’s loose folds.

“We can talk about this more, after you have gotten as much of this out as you can. We might visit some shops in the morning. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” Will says, but hesitates. It seems such a small and silly thing to be afraid of, after all that's happened, and yet he is. “But I don’t know if I'll be ready tomorrow.”

“That’s fine. But soon?”

“Yes,” Will says. “Please.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I read the characters, at least in the context of this fic:
> 
> Hannibal is genderfluid.
> 
> Will is nonbinary but he's never admitted this to anyone else until Hannibal told Will about his own gender identity, which allowed Will to feel secure enough to speak about himself. Will’s still anxious about it, mainly because he can’t shake the fear of what his dad would have done if he’d found out, but he's happy to be able to be honest.
> 
> Hannibal is perfectly comfortable with his gender and wants Will to be too. He is private about it, but this isn’t because it troubles him and he certainly isn’t ashamed. However, he is concerned on multiple levels that if this becomes common knowledge hack biographers and crime writers will reduce his story down to the offensive “deranged cross-dresser” trope.
> 
> After Will feels comfortable going shopping Hannibal buys him at least fifteen different feminine outfits, including one hell of a nice ball gown.
> 
> He does in fact eat anyone who gives Will shit about his gender presentation.


End file.
